


Little Blue Heart

by rememberwhenyoutried



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, F/F, Homestuck Rarepair Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 00:31:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1569380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rememberwhenyoutried/pseuds/rememberwhenyoutried
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game is over, the Earth is back, and Rose Lalonde would just like a bit of peace and quiet for a little while. Fortunately for her, Vriska Serket, the embodiment of peace and quiet, is about to show up uninvited and steal all her beer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rose: Receive an unwelcome guest.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tactlessCreator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tactlessCreator/gifts).



> The prompt was for porn without plot. I've never attempted that before, and ended up with rather more plot than porn. I hope it's okay :)

Rose: Receive an unwelcome guest.

 

You grip the railing with white knuckles, stomach pushed weakly against the metal, head hanging loose. All your strength has been taken from you, stolen from your body in the night, leaving you barely able to summon the energy to move yourself around the house and now here you are, trying to get your breath back after vomiting the contents of your stomach into the river below, unsure if you will ever be able to move from this place.

Your lips are acidic and your hair is plastered to your face with rainwater. Your throat burns and your muscles ache. You decide to stay here a while longer, watching the river carry your gastric detritus towards the falls.

You simply cannot deal with this any longer.

~

Your name is Rose Lalonde, and something inside you makes it rain.

A reporter came out to the house a few weeks ago looking for a story in the stormclouds that persist over Rainbow Falls, but what was there to say about it except, it’s always raining? She asked questions; you lied. She got some footage you doubt ever made it to TV. You deliberately wore a borderline-offensive shirt for the interview, not because you thought it would make them omit you from any potential broadcast—pixelization is a thing, after all—but merely to express your feelings on the whole process.

When she left for the last time, Kanaya told you that your growing contempt for other humans was an unbecoming quality, that your whole attitude towards people and the planet you ended up on was evidence of a bruise on your soul she was on the verge of giving up trying to heal. Things could have been so much worse, she’d said; you could, after all, have all reincarnated on a recreation of Alternia! You shouted back that that would have been better because maybe some troll there would have been willing to take you apart and find out what’s wrong with you, and that was what prompted her to slam the front door on her way out. It still doesn’t close properly.

Kanaya’s staying in town, for now, and occasionally pops up on Pesterchum. She worries. You wish she’d go further away.

But it’s true; something inside you makes it rain. The weather responds to your moods as if auditioning for a horror movie, and in the lightning flashes of your anxiety attacks you see writhing shadows in the forest, reaching for the clouds. They match the wriggling and itching under your skin, and what began as a creeping dread grew in the weeks of your solitude into a horrified certainty: when your head aches and the storm breaks the sky in half above you, you feel them as the limbs of something that crawled inside you long ago.

You can put a name to its tendrils, to the things curled around your spine, to the smoke that gathers in your head: _horrorterror_.

You are almost insulted to be so comprehensively invaded by something with such a stupid, _stupid_ name.

~

When you realized what it was you started dreaming about it. Some nights it’s a vague shape on the horizon, unmoving but prompting within you a terrified certainty that it’s getting closer all the time. Other nights it’s on top of you, underneath you, wrapped around you like a blanket. Those are the nights you wake up, sweating, screaming, clawing at an invisible embrace, expecting to see welts rising on your skin.

It seems to be growing weaker, smaller; with every night it feels diminished, but no less dangerous for it, and you fancy it may be tightening its grip on you as it slips away.

The nights get longer, and you start to hear whispering during the day from the many mouths of the mutant beast, invisible but not intangible. It gets worse when you are agitated, so you do your best to stay calm, looking up relaxing exercises on the internet and trying breathing, yoga, visualizing your happy place.

It works, for a few weeks.

You wonder if you will survive this.

~

You’ve managed to pry yourself away from the railing—partly because the sight of the river rushing below was beginning to make you nauseous again and you don’t have anything left in your belly to bring up except for acid, and partly because the water looked a little too inviting and you’d wondered what it would be like to just fall in and be carried over the falls—and you sit, throat still on fire and punishing you with every stolen breath, eyes half closed and fists clenched, with your back to the bars.

You can feel the monster moving inside you, responding to you. You let the rain soak you to the bone, imagining it cooling you, imagining the anger and the shame boiling off you in great clouds of steam.

You’ve made it down from the precipice. Any further progress can wait.

But a sense you didn’t know you had—and which you don’t find welcome—prompts you to stand, painfully, and walk back through the French doors into the landing over the living room, just in time to see the much-abused front doors to your home burst open hard enough to break the frame.

“I hope you don’t mind, Lalonde,” says the troll with the faded jeans and the sloppy shirt and the glasses, stepping nonchalantly over the doorframe and fixing you with a smirk you want to punch. “I let myself in.”


	2. Vriska: Just turn up uninvited, what could go wrong, nothing, that’s what.

Vriska: Just turn up uninvited, what could go wrong, nothing, that’s what.

 

You’d heard about Rose Lalonde:

TG: shes the most together person i know if you dont count everyone else i know  
  
CG: SHE'S LOST IT. KANAYA TOLD ME SHE WAS GOING SHITHIVE MAGGOTS SO I WENT OVER TO PAP SOME SENSE INTO HER AND ALL I GOT FOR MY CONSIDERABLE TROUBLE WAS VOMIT IN MY LAP AND THE SENSATION OF A TENTACLE IN MY FACE.  
CG: NO, FUCK YOU, NOT THE GOOD KIND OF TENTACLE, WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?  
  
GG: i wish i could help her but  
GG: i dont know whats wrong!!  
GG: i mean we all have to live with the after effects of the game but  
GG: i think the death of the horrorterrors really affected her  
GG: i think maybe she misses them  
  
GC: SH3 DO3SN'T M1SS TH3 SP4C3 MONST3RS  
GC: 1F 4NYTH1NG SH3 H4T3S TH3M MOR3 TH4N 3V3R!  
GC: TH31R L4ST R3MN4NTS 4R3 1NS1D3 H3R 4ND TH3Y'R3 T34R1NG H3R 4P4RT  
GC: SUR3LY 4NYON3 C4N S33 TH4T! >:|  
  
AA: i think theres something inside her  
AA: something old and twisted and dying :D  
AT: tHERE'S NO NEED TO LOOK, sO DELIGHTED ABOUT THAT,  
  
EB: people should just give her some space!  
EB: i don't know what's going on with her, i don't think anyone ever knows that except maybe kanaya.  
EB: but i heard she threw her out. or maybe she left. i don't know!  
EB: that's kind of a constant here? not knowing things.  
EB: i'm ok with that. if it's how it needs to be?  
EB: she needs to sort her head out, that's all.  
  
GA: She Wont Let Me In  
GA: I Know That Sounds Like A Metaphor But She Literally Wont Let Me Into Her Home Any More  
GA: I Think Shes Worried About What She Might Do  
GA: I Tried To Tell Her I Have Super Vampire Powers And Am Thus Unfazed By Unknowable Horrors Whether From Without Or Within  
GA: But She Will Not Relent  
GA: And She Will Not Be Helped  
GA: I Miss Her

~

It may be gloomy outside but it’s almost pitch black in here—Jegus, doesn’t the woman open the blinds?—and it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness, so you cover for it by making a shitty quip in the general direction of the silhouette you assume is Lalonde, and then shaking the water out of your hair. By the time she’s down the stairs you’ve adjusted, and you see her for the first time; in this world, at least. You never met in the game, but you saw her (much younger) self through Trollian enough times that you expected her to have grown into... well, anything other than the bedraggled mess shakily walking towards you.

You wonder if Kanaya knows how bad things have gotten.

“Woah, Lalonde, you look like shit,” you say. You silently congratulate yourself on your tact.

Lalonde stiffens and for a moment you think she’s going to yell at you, but then she slumps against the arm of the couch and glares at you.

“It’s good to finally meet you, Vriska,” she says. “Please don’t let the remains of my front door trip you on your way out.”

“What, no hug?” You throw your bag down by the table next to the front door and wander into the food preparation block. “I was told Rose Lalonde was an open, caring young woman who would do anything to make her guests feel welcome and comfortable!” You shove aside a couple of dirty plates and lean on the counter. “Up to and including not immediately ordering them to leave.”

“I’m sorry, did you expect a hilarious verbal sparring match with a quick-witted snarker?” Lalonde is obviously tired, but rallying. “I suggest you leave immediately and go find literally _any one_ of our friends, who I’m sure will be only too delighted to find a notorious criminal pulling up to their homes on—” she squints, apparently looking through the busted front door at your bike “—a leaking motorcycle. Roxy, for example.”

Her voice is beginning to sound hoarse and you wonder if you should interrupt her, but she talks a bit like Kanaya: a river of words you’d call a stream of consciousness if they didn’t sound so prepared, so organized.

“She lives in the city,” Rose continues, “and doubtless would find the pools of motor oil you trail behind you charmingly rustic, and your ‘Fuck the Condesce’ shirt a nostalgic and humorous reminder of her past life on the doomed Earth your former queen fucked up with robot drones and failed breeding attempts. Or Dave, perhaps—”

Okay, that’s enough. “You don’t need to list all the humans you know,” you say, butting in and deepening her frown, “and you and I both know you only know seven, anyway. I’m not going anywhere. I’ve had a long day and a long ride and I could use some of that _famous_ Lalonde hospitality.”

She squints at you. “‘Lalonde hospitality’? Who on Earth have you been listening to?”

“Basically everyone? I was restless so I thought I’d pay _all_ our friends a visit. Starting with you.”

“I’m flattered.” Rose coughs. It’s probably supposed to be a delicate, contemptuous cough, but it turns into several and sounds rather painful. You use the time to search for her thermal hull.

“Hey, you have beer!”

She recovers. “And you have failed to heed my earlier recommendations regarding the door, and leaving through it.”

You decide to ignore that, and crack open a bottle. “You want one?”

She doesn’t respond, so you grab a couple and make your way over to the couch. On your way you hold out a beer but she nods at the open bottle of wine on the table.

You settle at opposite ends of the sofa and stare at each other for a moment.

“So, really, Vriska,” she says. “Why are you here? If indeed you are visiting everyone we know then why me first?”

You take a swig and pretend to think about your answer. “You sounded interesting? I heard you were basically alone up here so I thought maybe you were working on something cool and secret.”

Lalonde actually manages a small smile. “Ah, yes,” she says. “Hang on a moment while I pull the switch I cleverly hid inside a book and reveal my underground lair.”

You hang on a moment. Rose looks expectant.

“That was a joke,” she points out.

“Hey, don’t expect me to know what’s normal and what’s crazy around here. I heard of a troll who had a mechanism just like that made.”

“Oh yes?”

“She was just coming of age but she was a total romantic disaster. There was no way she could have filled her buckets so she rigged an illumination sconce to a trap door and hid under the hive when the drones came.”

“And it worked, I take it?”

You laugh, remembering Karkat ranting about it. “Nah. They decorated her lawn ring with her skin.”

Rose grimaces, then chugs from the wine bottle like it’s beer.

“I don’t think I will ever tire of stories about your violent home planet,” she says. “Please do come back next year and tell me more.”

“Oh, come on,” you say. “The least you could do is let me stay the night.”

“Fine. One night.” She flops back into the couch cushion, looking almost as exhausted as she did when you got here. “Upstairs. Second door on the right.”

With Lalonde flagging and you, if you’re honest, more tired than you expected to be—this hadn’t exactly been an easy place to find—you decide you’re probably best off getting some rest and leaving the human to her demons for the night.

“Kanaya was right,” you say, wondering if Rose would react to the name; she didn’t. “You _are_ a gracious host, Lalonde.”


	3. Rose: Cope.

Rose: Cope.

 

You watch Vriska stomp up the stairs to what in your old world had been your mom’s room but in this one was just a spare bed and some wizards. Roxy came back as the Roxy from the game, your age, complete with a modern top-floor apartment in New York and more cats than you think could have possibly existed on the Earth she came from, but your mom was nowhere to be seen. The universe had had its fill of Roxy Lalonde and didn’t seem to see the point in a spare.

Even if that spare was your _mom_.

The closeness you and Roxy had shared in the game evaporated on this new world. Maybe you’d become good friends again in the future, but as of right now everything was too raw. You’d found yourselves trying to put each other in roles you were never meant to fill, and it hurt. So she got the fancy New York flat and you got the pile of poured concrete in the country. You also got the wine cellar, but you both agreed you needed it more.

Vriska. Vriska Serket. You don’t really know all that much about her, if you’re honest. Didn’t she kill... Nepeta? Tavros? Tavros.

You doubt she will leave of her own accord come the morning, and you lack the energy and the motivation to kick her out—and honestly, you reflect, you welcome the opportunity to think about something other than how nauseous you are and how long you can cope with this _thing_ inside you—so if you’re going to be spending a while with a known murderer you suppose you should attempt some healthy sleep.

You collect your bottle of wine and head upstairs.

~

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]  
  
AG: Hey, loser. You awake?  
TT: Oh my god.  
TT: What is it now?  
AG: So, listen, what's the deal with you anyway? I asked around and people were really vague, like you were keeping some terri8le secret from your friends or something.  
AG: Of course I was intrigued!  
TT: Is there anything approaching a consensus? However vague.  
AG: Word among the idiots is you 8 a horrorterror.  
TT: It would be more accurate to say it ate me.  
TT: As you may know, during the game I had quite the connection to our mysterious and sadly deceased hyperspace benefactors. Enough that for a short time I was a vessel for their power.  
TT: After my first death and resurrection their influence on me waned to almost nothing, but I occasionally experienced odd phenomena that couldn't be explained by any other machination of the game or of paradox space: flickering in the corners of my eyes; whispering voices at night, in a tongue I knew I shouldn't be able to understand.  
TT: It was unpleasant.  
TT: When we came here I expected finally to be free of them, and for a while I thought I was, until I heard a single, diminished voice. One voice with many mouths, in pain.  
TT: So, long story short: yes. But it's dying, I think.  
AG: I still don't get why you're moping all alone in this 8oring white palace! If all you have to do is w8 for it to die so you can excrete it in wh8ver horri8le human fashion you do that kind of thing then why lock yourself away like some seadwelling nook cleanser?  
TT: Because it feels dangerous this time.  
TT: This isn't a majestic timeless god in full control of its powers, lending me a tendril so that I can take a swing at Jack Noir. This is a dying animal, stripped of its heavenly gifts, lashing out in any way it can.  
TT: I don't think it's even properly conscious, any more. During the game, the voices made sense, however much I didn't want them to. But this one speaks only gibberish: random words from a god's vocabulary with no intelligence to them I can identify, and no patterns discernible except those of occasional lexical proximity.  
TT: "Pulse. Vein. Star. Claw. Open. Matter."  
AG: That's what it's saying now?  
TT: No. In the first few weeks I wrote everything down. I don't bother any more, but I have notebooks full of this nonsense.  
TT: It's got even less comprehensible, and far more violent.  
TT: Most days I feel I can barely contain it.  
TT: As for why I haven't talked to any of my friends about it, do *you* know anyone with experience of dealing with a monster living inside them? A creature who is so frightened and in so much pain that all it wants to do is hurt people? A creature whose only remaining language is written in violence and death?  
TT: I thought not.  
AG: I may not have invited space monsters into my digestive sac, 8ut I know a thing or two a8out violence. All trolls do! Even Fussyfangs herself.  
AG: I don't know why you didn't ask LITERALLY ANY TROLL a8out this.  
AG: Except Tavros. Who has never so much as hurt a pollin8ing 8uzz8east.  
AG: Hah. I used to think he was weak. Now I think may8e he was stronger than any of us.  
AG: 8ut yeah. What do you want to know a8out resisting violent impulses?  
TT: What even do *you* know about resisting violent impulses? I heard you killed Tavros, the troll you do so admire for his restraint.  
AG: And many more 8esides! My count is in the hundreds! I was unstoppa8le ::::D  
TT: Then however were you stopped?  
AG: A 8acksta88ing. 8ut that's not important.  
AG: The point is, I know a8out killing. I used to FLARP and I was the 8EST at it.  
TT: Dare I ask what a FLARP is?  
AG: Extreme role-playing! I learned a 8it a8out what you call role-playing here on Earth and I can assure you it's wiggler stuff compared to FLARPing. Hell, wigglers would find it childish and unchallenging!!!!!!!!  
AG: If you lose at Earth role-playing you have to leave the ta8le. If you lose at FLARP, you die and I feed your corpse to my lusus.  
AG: She was very well fed ::::D   
TT: You're not doing a sterling job of convincing me you are a suitable teacher of pacifism in extremis.  
AG: Man, you should see all the chumps I didn't kill.  
AG: Mostly it was only when I needed to feed mom. And just occasionally for fun.  
AG: I kinda miss it.  
AG: It was simple. I was stronger, more cunning, more deadly than anyone, regardless of 8lood color! I took down seadwellers and clown8loods as well as my share of the 8ottom end of the hemospectrum. And those I didn't personally take out I manipul8ted to their doom.  
AG: I was unstoppa8le!  
AG: 8ut here, out of the game, away from Alternia, it's all different.  
TT: Not everything's changed. You're still a thoroughly repulsive person.  
AG: And you're still not 8etter than me :::;)  
AG: Goodnight.  
  
arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]  
  
TT: Good god.

~

You can’t sleep.

You’re thinking about violence.

 _Fucking_ Vriska! How dare she just show up and upset the delicate controlled fall that is your life! You’re running through the imagery of her early years—kill after kill after kill: to feed her lusus; as an “unfortunate” side-effect of intense FLARPing; just for fun—and you can feel the thing writhing inside you. When you told Vriska that the creature wanted to inflict violence you were extrapolating from your own rather limited observations, but its reaction to the idea of Vriska killing another troll and feeding the faceless, dehumanized (hah!) object to her spider mother—a monster you’ve never seen but picture as a twenty story horror movie special effect—seems to confirm your hypothesis: pain is its language.

This is not good.

You try to distract yourself with a book, and when you drift away from the text and back into the nightmarish orgy of violence that is your notion of Vriska’s childhood you switch to picking random TV shows on Hulu.

Nothing works. You feel sick.

You try redirecting your thoughts. You’ve been focusing on the horror; what if you focused on Vriska, the person? If Vriska has to be manipulating innocent trolls to their death then why not pay attention to _her?_

She’s captaining a ludicrously old-fashioned sailing ship, doubtless incongruous in the biotech-saturated world Kanaya’s described to you. She’s wearing a ridiculous pirate costume, blood-blue, curved swords slung over her back, long black hair stuffed partially into a pony tail in a token attempt at practicality but spilling out over her shoulders and down her chest anyway. She’s smiling, that malicious grin you’ve known less than a day but you already want to punch, or maybe kiss.

Wait. What?

You made a rule, shortly after you realized that hangovers made it harder to suppress the horrorterror, not to drink to help yourself sleep. You decide to break that rule tonight.

Anything but think too much about Vriska’s lips.

~

You wake to the sound of Vriska crashing about downstairs, and a hissing noise that it takes you a while to place until you realize with some chagrin that it’s the sound of your gas stove; what little you’ve been eating recently has been either cold or made with an electric kettle.

Your head is pounding; inside you, the monster is curiously quiet.

Lately you’ve found you can just about summon the energy to do laundry if you do huge batches at a time in the big machines down at the lab, which sits empty a little way down the hill. On some other Earth, they were presumably used by the janitorial staff of SkaiaNet, but here they are dormant until once a month you show up with a cart full of towels and underwear and fill four machines at once.

You pick a clean dressing gown off the pile and thank whatever gods might be listening—and which do not possess tentacles—that you did a run just a few days before Vriska showed up. It was bad enough you were such an obvious fuck-up; at least you were a fuck-up in nice clean clothes.

Downstairs, Vriska is doing terrible violence to your kitchen, of a sort that among Alternian murderers is probably known as cooking.

You put on the most placid face you can manage. “Well done. You’ve made a mess.”

Vriska turns her attention away from the frying pan to give you _that_ grin. “I’m surprised you can even tell! This place wasn’t exactly the Hotel Condescension even before I started. Did you know almost all your food has expired?”

“Yes.” You shrug. “It hasn’t really come up?”

“You’re a disgrace, Lalonde. Fortunately for us I located some bacon in the thermal hull with an expiry date some time in the next century so, lucky you, you get to eat a hot breakfast.”

Despite yourself, you’re a little grateful.

“It’s nearly ready,” Vriska continues. “I’d serve it with bread or eggs or those fantastic non-grub-based sausage things you humans have but this is literally the only food in the house that doesn’t have a thick layer of fur on it. I realize this is probably a stupid question, but do you have any clean plates?”

“Um. No?”

In the end you eat off paper towels.

~

“Man, that sure was a lot of nothing but bacon.”

“That was two months’ supply,” you say, feeling over-full. “We’re going to die.”

“Wimp,” Vriska snorts. “Can’t you just, y’know, _buy more food?_ Get it delivered or something? Or call for pizza? Don’t you have _money?_ ”

“Don’t _you?_ ”

She laughs. “Nope.”

“How did you afford that leaking monstrosity you call a motorbike?”

She grins. You pay special attention to the way her mouth curls up; it’s _infuriating_. “Stole it,” she says.

It’s your turn to laugh. “What a comeback. Vriska Serket, pirate supreme, returns! And this time, she’s come for— _gasp!_ —your shitty motorbike!”

“Wow, an attempt at a joke!” This time her smile is nastier: she’s showing her fangs, which are a little shorter than Kanaya’s. You file that away, just in case fang size is something she’s sensitive about. “I thought you were too busy moping and crying to even try for one.”

“If your stolen bike brings the police here I’m going to tell them about all those people you killed, all that shit you stole. You committed all the crimes.”

She leans back in her chair and runs a hand through her hair. “I took it across two state lines,” she says. “Your authorities aren’t even worth the name.”

“You had police on Alternia?”

“Yeah! Didn’t you ever talk to Terezi?”

That’s a sore spot. “We had kind of a seer-to-seer conflict thing going on, towards the end. Somehow we never really got along.”

“We had Legislacerators. They came after you if the Condesce told them to, or if you stole stuff or killed people you shouldn’t have.”

“I still find it hard to imagine that you had _allowable murder_ on Alternia.”

She looks wistful, and you find it strangely charming before you remember she’s probably about to start listing people she’s personally killed. When you’re with Vriska, it’s somehow easy to forget that she’s a multiple murderer, that she was a miniature natural disaster to any trolls unfortunate enough to grow up in her vicinity. Her easy arrogance, her apparent confidence, her lazy grin; all traits that attract and infuriate you in equal measure, but you don’t feel _in danger_.

Should you?

“Yeah, you could kill anyone two steps lower on the hemospectrum, unless they were really useful. So, no killing jades, no killing anyone who was employed by anyone important. All legacy stuff, really? These days— uh, I mean, back then, you only stayed on-planet until you were old enough to ship out, so no-one really worked for anyone except unofficially. So the rules were: don’t kill above your color, and don’t kill jades.”

“So that’s how you got away with it? You made sure only to murder the less deserving?”

She frowns. “Careful, Lalonde. I can hear your contempt. Don’t think I don’t see your planet for what it is. I meant what I said: you’re _not_ better than me.”

“Whatever.”

“And anyway, I got away with it by being _better than everyone else._ I didn’t care about blood color; if mom needed feeding then I did what had to be done.”

“How noble.”

“Thanks! Come on, I’ll make us some coffee.”


	4. Vriska: Discover that the coffee is congealed at the back of the thermal hull.

Vriska: Discover that the coffee is congealed at the back of the thermal hull.

 

You seriously can’t believe the state of this kitchen. After dropping the soggy lump of coffee in a plastic bag and, in a rare moment of environmental responsibility, throwing it out the window, you give up on the whole idea of hot drinks and grab a couple of beers. Lalonde is sleepily stretched out on the couch, her feet on the coffee table, and you join her. She wordlessly accepts a beer and you both crack them open.

Man, what is her problem? She’s got everything: huge hive, stacks of cash, an ex-matesprit who is probably only too willing to drop the prefix, and she’s wasting it all, wallowing in misery and coffee you could compost with because she’s got a horrorterror in her.

Big deal. Like you don’t know what it’s like to live with violent thoughts? If that’s even what the thing’s making her think. It’s probably just lowered _all_ her inhibitions or something, and she’s being typical stuck-up Lalonde and repressing her entire psychology.

So dumb.

Fuck, Rose Lalonde really pisses you off.

~

Just when you’re starting to think, hey, this place may be boring like everywhere else on this tedious planet but at least it’s not lonely, you look over and there’s Lalonde, eyes closed, head lolled, a little clear drool in the corner of her mouth.

Great.

You turn off the television and sit and really look at her. You’re surprised at how okay she looks: when she’s asleep her eyes uncrease, the tension leaves her body, and she even smiles a little. You reach out and tuck a bit of hair back behind her ear before it finds its way into her mouth; Lalonde reacts to this very slightly, rubbing her soft brown skin against your finger before you can pull it away.

That was kind of adorable, actually.

Shit. Hey, Fussyfangs, I know you didn’t want me messing with your life so I’m staying with your ex and I might be a little attracted to her, sorry!

You try to distract yourself by opening your husktop and going online, but now you’re thinking about Maryam and you can’t stop staring at her name in Trollian.

She’s blocked you, of course. You remember the last time you spoke, several months ago:

AG: What is it? Why are you 8ugging me?  
GA: I Just Wanted To Know Where You Are  
AG: Why? So you can get in my 8usiness? Why don't you leave me alone????????  
GA: What Are You Talking About  
GA: We Havent Spoken For A Lifetime  
GA: To Answer Your Question I Want To Know Where You Are Right Now So I Can Make Sure My Life Stays Relatively Free Of Drama  
GA: I Want To Be Far Away From You  
AG: Hey, that hurts! What did I even do.  
GA: Would You Like Me To Read From The List  
GA: Yes There Is A List  
GA: Do You Have A Spare Few Hours Because Its A Long List  
AG: Ok, whatever, sure I've done some stuff. Who hasn't? At least I tried to help.  
GA: Reports Are You Spent Many Subjective Sweeps Waving Your Bulge Around The Afterlife In A Competition With Your Dancestor To See Just How Many Of Our Doomed Timeline Duplicates You Could Double Kill  
GA: Your Dancestor Is Horrible By The Way  
GA: Weve Met And On Balance I Prefer You To Her  
GA: This Makes Her A Fairly Extreme Statistical Outlier  
AG: Yeah, well, she was 8eing a dope last I heard. Hearing a8out the shit she tried to pull made me cringe. It was like she was my over-eager prot8ge, despite 8eing 8oth older and, I h8 to say it, more powerful than me.  
AG: And for the record it was mostly just 8eforan chumps and Eridans I was dou8le killing. Or lining up for Lord Overpowered to dou8le kill.  
GA: Consider The Record Duly Updated  
GA: Now Where Are You  
AG: Why is this so important to you anyway?  
AG: You know what I've done since we came to this 8oring planet? NOTHING. Not a damned thing.  
AG: And even if I could, you know I wouldn't. You KNOW I've changed.  
GA: Oh Have You Really My Mistake  
GA: Please Come Back Into My Life Immediately  
GA: Let Me Stand Nonchalantly With My Back To You Presenting My Vulnerable Regions At The Most Convenient Stabbing Angle  
GA: Also Look Heres Our Mutual Friend Tavros  
GA: Hes Ever So Eager To Take Up With You Again  
AG: You've made your point.  
GA: Have I  
GA: Because I Have Things To Deal With Here And The Very Last Thing I Need Is You Barging In With Some Grand Plan That Requires Us All To Drop Everything And Do Exactly As You Say And Possibly Die  
AG: Plan? What plan? What is there to plan to do here? Hey everyone, let's form an army and clim8 into our 8adass pir8 ships and sail on down to Walmart and really 8uy the hell out of some televisions!!!!!!!!  
GA: I Dont Know Im Not The One Who Comes Up With Ridiculous Unworkable Ideas  
GA: Youre The Egomanic Not Me  
AG: Gee, thanks!  
AG: What things?  
GA: What Do You Mean What Things  
AG: You said you have Things To Deal With Here. What things?  
GA: Rose Is Sleeping A Lot  
GA: And Ever Since We Got Back From The Game She Seems Angry  
GA: I Dont Know What To Do  
AG: Huh. May8e........  
AG: Never mind. I know what you're going to say.  
AG: I get it, Kanaya.  
AG: I'm in Ohio. It sucks.  
AG: L8r, Fussyfangs.


	5. Rose: Wake up.

Rose: Wake up.

 

The first thing you see is Vriska’s grin.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she says.

You roll your eyes. You’re vaguely aware that some sort of movie is on the TV. Nicolas Cage is making a face at someone off-camera. You turn your attention back to Vriska.

“What time is it?” you say.

She makes a show of looking at her empty wrist. “It’s a quarter past thanks-for-falling-asleep-and-leaving-me-on-my-own! I’m so glad you asked.”

Whatever goodwill a late morning of bacon and beer had built up in you evaporates. “I’m terribly sorry,” you snap, “did I inconvenience you? How _impolite_ of me, to invite you into my home and then so rudely fall asleep.” You prop yourself up a little. “I and my resident monstrosity apologize. Profusely. Please, how _can_ we make it up to you.”

“For a start you can stop being such a snotty milkbeast and realize you don’t mind having me around.”

“Ah yes, I forgot you were telepathic. How wonderful!” You put two fingers of each hand on your temples as if you’re Professor Xavier. “I will have to remember to recite nonsense poetry in my head at all times. Maybe I can give you a migraine.”

“My badass powers sadly don’t work on humans.” She takes a swig of beer; you notice four empty bottles on the table. “I guess I could put you to sleep? But we just found out you’re even more boring when you’re making snorting noises and dribbling on the arm of your couch.”

“Do you _really_ not feel any obligation to be nice to the woman in whose home you are crashing?”

She moves herself around so that she’s sat cross-legged on the couch, facing you. “Is ‘nice’ what you need?” she says. “If I was to agree with everything you said, treat you with wiggler gloves, would that actually _help?_ Would that get you closer to being your old self?”

You laugh, without humor. “Is that why you’re here? To help?”

“Nah. I was just bored.”

“You can be bored anywhere. Why here?”

She shrugs. “Why not here?”

Ugh. “Whatever.”

“‘Whatever.’ You’ve been saying that a lot. What _really_ happened to the Lalonde I heard about? She was sharp and witty, and kept you on your toes! I had to listen to half-a-dozen ghosts going on about what a fascinating verbal combatant you were.”

You feel curiously under attack, and sit up straighter, the better to defend yourself. “Horrorterrors happened.”

She laughs at you. “And you’re going to let this state of affairs continue? Do you _enjoy_ having that thing rot inside you that much?”

“Fuck you,” you say. “Fuck you, and pass me a beer.”

She opens a bottle and passes it to you. You sit for a few moments, facing each other, drinking your beers. She’s so close you can feel her breath on your face, making you uncomfortable.

You ostentatiously look at the TV in an attempt to change focus. “What are we watching?”

Vriska doesn’t turn back. “National Treasure.”

“Huh. I didn’t think I had the DVD of that.”

“You don’t. Netflix does.”

“And that would be a salient point if I actually had Netflix.”

She nods at the table, at the credit card on top of a pile of books. _Your_ credit card. “You do now.”

You stare at the thing for a second, dumbfounded. “You used my credit card to buy movies? Movies _John would watch?_ ”

She smiles wickedly. “Yeah! And pizza’s coming, and I ordered groceries for tomorrow. You shouldn’t leave your stuff lying around if you don’t want helpful trolls fixing up your life for you.”

It’s all you can do to form words. “You really are the most arrogant, aggravating little thing, aren’t you?”

“Little?” She sneers. “I could ball you up and throw you in the garbage.” 

“I should fu—”

You don’t get any further than that because Vriska, inches from your face already, lunges forward impulsively and kisses you. Shocked, you push yourself away from her and fall back into the couch cushion. What the hell did she just do?

Do you want this? Do you need this?

Does she?

She grins that fucking grin again, the one you don’t know whether to punch or kiss, and you settle on kissing it. She kisses back and you lean forward, put pressure on her lips, reach out with your hands as she reaches out with hers, and for a moment you forget about everything except the girl in front of you.

For just a moment. Then it’s all too much, and you bolt.

~

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]  
  
AG: What's wrong with you?  
TT: You kissed me!  
AG: Well, duh. You could impale the kismesexual tension on a ceremonial culling fork. And yet there you went, fleeing from the scene like a low8lood thief.  
AG: You're not wired wrong, are you? I know John said humans don't have 8lack relationships 8ut I didn't think you idiots were so 8oring, least of all you.  
AG: Humans do KNOW what two people do when they have strong feelings for each other, right?  
TT: Spare me the take me to your leader routine. I am reasonably well-versed in your romantic customs and not unappreciative of their relative charms compared to our simpler yet perhaps messier system.  
TT: And you didn't necessarily read me wrong.  
TT: I just don't know that I want to do it again.  
TT: Yet.  
TT: Necessarily.  
TT: But pencil me in as a maybe who has some thinking to do. I've never even considered a black relationship.  
AG: Uh, ok.  
AG: Look at you with the overthinking things. You sound like a six-sweep-old trying to sound knowledgea8le to cover up your lack of experience.  
TT: Well, yes. I'm not twelve years old but I *am* inexperienced.  
TT: At this particular thing, at least.  
AG: I don't see why this takes a lot of thinking a8out, I mean, it's pretty simple: was it hot? y/n  
AG: And I guess you need reminding that it wasn't only ME who kissed YOU.  
AG: 8ut sure, wh8ver.  
AG: You do your human indecision thing I guess.  
AG: More pizza for me.  
  
arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]

~

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA]  
  
TT: I need some advice.  
TT: I'm sorry to contact you out of the blue like this, especially given the way we left things, but I am lost on the highways of romantic inexperience and I need to borrow someone's map.  
TT: I'm also a little drunk.  
GA: Given The Way You Left Things You Mean  
GA: You Shouted At Me And When I Left Admittedly A Little Hastily You Seemed To Assume That Was It For Our Relationship  
GA: And Also The End Of Our Ever Speaking Again Until Today  
GA: And Hooray The Soporifics Again   
TT: Believe me, I would have chosen anyone else if I could, and spare you the heartache of having to talk to me again, but what troll is as humane as you?  
GA: You Are The Most Ridiculous Person  
GA: Of Course I Am Upset  
GA: This Is The First Time We Have Spoken In Months And It Is Bringing Back A Lot Of Buried Pain  
GA: But The Inevitability Of This Does Not Mean It Would Have Been Preferable To Never Speak Again  
TT: I kept failing you.  
TT: And I see that in cutting off contact I failed you again.  
GA: You Have Made Mistakes And We Both Know That  
GA: Characterizing Them As Failures Implies That You Were Trying For Something Better And Inexplicably Missed The Mark Because Of Forces Beyond Your Control  
GA: But You Decided To Make These Mistakes  
GA: Drunkenly Yes   
GA: Under The Influence Of The Thing Residing In You Yes  
GA: You Can Simply Stop Making These Decisions  
GA: It Takes Strength And You Will Need Help But That Is What Friends Are For  
GA: You Can Choose To Let People Help You Instead Of Hiding Away  
TT: I'm, um.  
TT: I'm going to think on what you've said here. Later, when I have resolved at least some of my immediate confusion.  
TT: Friends are actually why I contacted you.  
TT: I have Vriska staying with me.  
GA:   
TT: Kanaya?  
GA:   
TT: Are you there?  
GA: Yes I Am Back  
GA: I Took A Moment To Select My Fluffiest And Thickest Pillow And Scream Into It  
GA: It Helped  
GA: The Fact That You Would Allow Her Through Your Door And Not Me Is   
GA: Frustrating  
TT: I didn't allow her through my door.  
TT: She kicked it down. She turned up on her shitty motorbike and kicked down the door. And then she wouldn't leave and so she's staying with me.  
TT: She's charming in a really frustrating sort of way.  
TT: And an hour or so ago she kissed me.  
GA:   
GA: My Goodness I Am Recommending That Pillow To All My Apartment Dwelling Friends  
GA: So Vriska Then  
GA: Kissing Vriska  
GA: I Do Not Understand The Appeal  
GA: I Mean Perhaps Once But Not For Sweeps  
GA: Is This  
GA: A Red Thing  
TT: Absolutely not. I don't know what the hell it is and I don't even know if I want to do it again but I know it's not red.   
GA: Okay That Is Something At Least  
TT: My feelings for you are unchanged and not impinged upon by this... whatever this is.  
GA: Fine But Can We Not Go There Right Now  
TT: Of course.  
TT: Sorry.  
GA: But Still This Is Vriska  
GA: She Brings Out The Worst In People  
TT: I quite agree.  
TT: She *is* the worst in people.  
TT: But sometimes...  
TT: Maybe I need a little worst.  
GA: Rose I Am Alarmed   
GA: The Woman I Know Would Not Resort To Such Grammatical Butchery To Make A Point  
TT: The woman you know isn't here right now.   
GA: Are You Saying   
GA: She Could Be Some Day  
TT: Maybe.  
TT: Vriska, and believe me I am as surprised about this as you, may well turn out to be good for me.  
TT: She's the right combination of aggravating and intriguing.  
TT: A healthy black relationship, if that's what this is, may be enough to keep me going until this... phase has passed.  
GA: Would You Like Me To Count The Number Of Healthy Relationships Black Or Otherwise Vriska Has Ever Had On My Claws  
GA: There I Just Did It Its None  
TT: Honestly she doesn't seem as bad as you said.  
TT: Possibly the least pleasant person I've ever met, yes. But not the violent, uncontrollable monster I've heard about. At least, not while she's drinking beer with me on my couch.  
GA: She Is A Killer  
GA: You Do Know That Right Im Quite Sure I Mentioned It  
GA: Not Just Tavros Whom She Killed Because He Displeased Her  
GA: But Hundreds Of Trolls In Her Youth  
TT: Technically, you're a killer, too.  
GA: I Killed A Killer  
GA: She Killed A Friend  
GA: And Ghosts She Killed Ghosts Too  
TT: Surely we can allow for the possibility that she's changed?  
TT: The rest of us have.  
GA: The Rest Of Us Are Not Vriska  
TT: Trust me. Please?  
GA: Is This The Part Where You Say  
GA: "I Know What Im Doing"  
TT: In some other universe, perhaps.  
TT: In this one, well, I have a horrorterror inside me  
TT: With you around, I would spend my days dreading the thought that I might hurt you.  
TT: With her around, I'm more calm. Somehow. Despite the beast in my belly.   
TT: I think it's dying. I think I just need to make it through another few weeks, or maybe months.  
GA: Please Try And Stay Safe  
GA: I Dont Know What I Would Do If After Everything I Lost You To A Rogue Space Monster  
TT: Vriska's not *that* bad.  
GA: You Joke About This And Some Would Probably Say Thats Healthy  
GA: But Oh Look I Seem To Have Bitten Through My Husktop  
TT: Was the pillow no longer sufficient?  
GA: Pillows Are For Screaming  
GA: But Please No More Jokes I Dont Really Feel Comfortable With Them At This Point  
GA: We Are Not In That Place Right Now  
TT: I think we could be again.  
TT: I've not thought that for a long time.  
TT: That's progress, right?  
GA: Be Careful  
GA: We Dont Know If The Games Resurrection Mechanism Is Still In Effect  
TT: I don't intend to find out.  
TT: That's a new thought, too.  
GA: Good  
GA: I Am Only A Phone Call Or A Pester Ping Away  
GA: Even A Loud Yell Would Probably Do It  
GA: Shout And I Will Disentangle You From Her With A Chainsaw  
TT: I promise to call if I need you.  
TT: And also maybe just to call.  
TT: Thank you for listening.  
TT: I'm going to try to get some sleep, put off coping with Vriska until the morning.  
  
tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA]


	6. Rose: Deal with Vriska.

Rose: deal with Vriska.

 

It’s the bass that wakes you. You can feel it through the floor, through your bedframe, mingling with the white noise of the rain, a relentless thud, a bass drum hitting every other beat and making your head pound. 

When you couldn’t get to sleep last night you chased what beer remained in your stomach down with a bottle of wine. The choice had been between drinking yourself into unconsciousness or dwelling on the way Vriska’s teeth had felt on your lips, the way her hands had found their way between your thighs as if they belonged there, the way you’d felt her move under her jeans, similar to the way Kanaya used to, but more aggressive somehow.

You chose wine. It was less complicated. Now you’re paying the price.

It may have been the bass that woke you up, but it’s the squealing guitars and Vriska’s terrible singing that stops you getting back to sleep.

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering arachnidsGrip [AG]  
  
TT: How can you be so aggressively appalling?  
TT: Does it take conscious effort? Do you climb out of your cocoon of a morning and square your shoulders as you prepare for a long, hard day of being a humongous tool? Or does it come as naturally as breathing?  
AG: This is so rich coming from you! The expert in pushing people away with omnidirectional 8ullshit and 8ulge-killing indecision!  
AG: You know what your friends say a8out you? Oh, so many sympathetic and caring things! 8ut where are they? Do they visit? 8ecause I can't see any right n8w! If I lift up the covers on your couch will I find John hiding, ready and waiting to leap out and give you a supportive friendleader hug? Is Jade a8out to come charging down those stairs and gather you up in her arms and tell you everything's going to 8e ok?  
AG: No. 8ecause you're the most toxic of all the humans and they know it.  
AG: And what a8out Kanaya? Dear old Fussyfangs, the troll who can't 8ear to wait 8 seconds 8efore sticking her wooden paddling stick in; where even is she? Don't tell me you 8roke up?  
TT: Leave her out of this.  
AG: Your ex and my never-was. Content to judge us 8oth from the other end of a Trollian account, 8ut here? Helping you? No.  
AG: There's just you. And me. And the endless fucking storm.  
TT: Oh, is that why you're really here? You've stepped in out of the goodness of your little blue heart?  
TT: Are you seriously attempting to paint yourself as the magnanimous hero? Vriska Serket, wrecker of shit, killer of random trolls who didn't see her coming, scourge of FLARP and presumably other even more pointlessly violent children's games, selflessly giving herself over to the rehabilitation of a housebound doomfrau? See how she rides in on a leaking metal stallion and drinks all the beer!  
TT: You don't care about me, so don't pretend that you do. Your motives are selfish because when ever have they not been?  
TT: But you can't get anything out of helping me because, as you handily pointed out, I've pushed everyone else away. Who will see your efforts and reward you? Who is left to say, thank god for Vriska, she helped Rose when no-one else would?  
TT: And if you think you can scrape a little of the tarnish off your murderous soul by keeping my corpse company as it thrashes its last, well.  
TT: I am not your redemption.  
TT: You are simply here because no-one else will have you.  
AG: Why don't you come down here and say that?  
AG: Stop sulking in your depressing room with your 8roken toys and get down here and tell me to my face that no8ody likes me!  
AG: As if it's news to me!!!!!!!!  
AG: When we reincarn8ed we were all so del8ed to see each other, and I was so caught up in the excitement of it all it took me several minutes to realize something very important.  
AG: In all that hu88u8, guess who ran to me? Guess who sought me out specifically and said, "We missed you, Vriska! Thanks for all your hard work trying to trap Lord English! Too 8ad it didn't work out 8ut those are the 8reaks!!!!!!!!"  
AG: Guess who took a few moments out of their joy at 8eing alive and reunited with their friends to let me know I was appreci8ed?  
AG: No8ody! Terezi eventually apologized for killing me and I couldn't even 8e mad at her 8ecause I've had a lot of time to think a8out it and, yeah, she was right to do it.  
AG: Do you know what that's like? To spend hundreds of su8jective sweeps contempl8ing your own 8acksta88ing only to come to the conclusion that the universe was 8etter off with you dead? That your murderer was a hero? That the story was never a8out you?  
AG: It's the kind of thing that might force a girl to change her ways. 8ut guess what? It doesn't matter if no8ody sees me help you 8ecause even if I show I've changed NO8ODY WILL CARE. I've 8urned through every last second chance.  
AG: 8ut you might actually have some left!  
AG: So 8y jegus or 8y gog or 8y good golly gum drops or 8y wh8ver other 8ogus human deity you want to name, I'm doing this for YOU.  
AG: You don't have to 8ecome me.  
TT: 8lah 8lah 8lah.  
TT: You're good at self-aggrandizement, I'll give you that.  
TT: But enough is enough. It's sufficient that I have to deal with this dying creature squeezing the light out of me without playing host to the Vriska Serket poor me party.  
TT: You know what? Yeah, you made a lot of mistakes. You couldn't take one step in the right direction and the people who loved you, the people who cared about you, the people who saw you for what you are but hoped against hope that you might do the right thing anyway, well, they learned their lesson, didn't they?  
TT: Vriska will betray you.  
TT: Vriska will kill you on a whim.  
TT: Vriska Serket cannot. Be. Trusted.  
TT: Just because you are the recognized and licensed authority on fucking up doesn't make you a life coach. It makes you a fuckup. A dangerous, untrustworthy fuckup. And I am not one to ignore the lessons of history.  
TT: You will hurt me. You are the spider, the scorpion. Hurting people is in your nature, whether or not you think you've become enlightened enough to recognize you should change.  
TT: I didn't ask you here.  
TT: I didn't give you permission to stay.  
TT: I want you gone.  
AG: You little 8itch.  
AG: You are SO full of shit.  
AG: You want to talk a8out mistakes? What a8out the time you realized too l8 what a shitty, neglectful child you were, and took into yourself the very 8eings that are dying inside you now? You walked up to Jack Noir and practically 8egged him to kill you!  
AG: And then you tried it again, another grand suicide mission, 8ecause it's 8etter for Rose Lalonde to die in some huge no8le explosion than actually engage with her pro8lems.  
AG: You've had a death wish ever since you came into the game, and the 8ad thing a8out you, the dangerous thing a8out you, is that you might take your friends with you.  
AG: They know that. They've always known that.  
AG: I may have hurt people, I may have killed, 8ut don't pretend the reason your sl8 is clean is 8ecause of your expert moral judgment.  
AG: You got lucky.  
AG: Sound like anyone you know?  
TT: Fuck you.  
AG: Welcome to 8eing dangerous.  
TT: Get the fuck out of my house.  
AG: Make me.  
AG: Get off that computer, unlock your door, come down here.  
AG: And MAKE ME.  
  
tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering arachnidsGrip [AG]


	7. Vriska: Brace yourself.

Vriska: Brace yourself.

 

She comes charging down the stairs, and you can see for the first time why she was so worried about being around other people. Her skin is glowing slightly, throwing shadows that are deeper than they have any right to be. There are things moving at the edge of your vision, and the ever-present rain outside the windows bends as if in a powerful magnetic field.

She walks right up to you and stands inches away. “What the hell are you still doing here?” she yells.

“How clear do I have to make it, Lalonde?” you shout back. “I’m here for _you!_ ” You grab her upper arms; she’s warm underneath your hands, warmer than she should be, and the whites of her eyes are starting to darken. Maybe you’re stupid to think you can make any kind of a difference here?

Nah. You summon up every ounce of authority you can access. “You will not get this thing out of your system just _waiting_ for it to die!” You wait until she looks into your eyes, and enunciate your next words very carefully. “It will take you with it.”

She glares back at you. “What would you have me do? How would _you_ deal with it?”

“I don’t know! I’m just a dumb rich kid! But we have so many clever friends. Friends with amazing game powers and lots of free time! You can go to all of them together or one at a time but they will help you if it’s even slightly possible! They don’t know how bad it’s got for you because _you_ hid yourself away, you idiot! And it’s killing you. Anyone can see that!”

She pushes away from you, forcing herself out of your grip. It looks like she’s starting to think clearly again, regaining some control: the hissing shadows in the corners or your eyes are receding. “And what if I kill them?” she says, quietly. “What if I lose control and lash out? What if I hurt my friends? What then?”

You manage a grin. “You seemed to be yelling at me just fine a moment ago without ripping my head off.”

Lalonde stares at you, eyes wide. You try to interpret her expression and give up.

“Yes,” she mutters. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

You’re about to say something but before you can she’s on you, faster than you would have thought a human could be, kissing you.

~

She has your shirt off in seconds, ripping it open right across your chest, and would probably have more luck undoing your jeans if she wasn’t concentrating so hard on kissing you. She’s pushing against you with a hunger you’ve never felt in anyone and you can’t help but respond. After a moment’s confusion you kiss her back and the both of you, entwined, stagger sideways into the living room.

By the time you make it to the couch you’re both down to your underwear and fall onto it together, panties around your ankles. You land on your back and she perches on your thighs and for the first time you see Rose Lalonde naked.

You’ve seen a lot of movies since you came to Earth and you’re pretty familiar with human bodies so nothing about this is actually _surprising_ but, hell, Lalonde is stunning, all smooth brown skin, small breasts and wide hips, looking down on you with an expression you’re still struggling to read but which must mean something good because in seconds she’s leaning down over you and kissing you again, one of her hands on your crotch.

She’s got two fingers in the lips of your nook, firmly massaging you in vague time with her kisses and teasing the tip of your bulge. You start getting warm down there and you feel, despite your mockery last night, strangely inexperienced. She arches her back, abandons the kiss, and you lean forward to continue it but find your mouth close to her breasts. You kiss her nipple, around it, under it, hooking your hands together behind her back as you cover her skin with your mouth and she strokes your bulge. 

She feels you start to unsheathe and stiffen, and repositions herself, moving from your thighs to your crotch. Your bulge touches her labia and she guides you inside with her fingers. She’s soft and warm inside, not at all like a troll, and just when you don’t know what to expect she starts to contract herself around you, rhythmically, in time with the kisses she starts planting on your neck, and you feel like you could drown in waves of pleasure. You close your eyes.

Lalonde bites your neck.

You rally.

You pull her down, pull yourself up, pull her head away from your neck and kiss her on the lips again, harder than before, biting, drawing blood from her lips, all in time to the pressure she is exerting on your bulge. You wonder if the pain will make her disengage but she pushes back, matching you, biting your lip and breaking the skin. She pushes down on your nook and grinds against you and you can’t stop kissing, licking the blood from her lips, her red and your blue mixing on your chin and around her mouth.

It’s your turn to kiss her neck. You push her up, away from you, concentrate on her chin and her jaw, not so much kissing but just moving your open mouth over her skin, feeling the heat of your breath reflected back at you. She puts a hand on your belly and you put a finger on her crotch, in front of your bulge, and start gently to rub her clit. Between the ridges of your bulge and your careful finger you’re on both sides of her just as she surrounds you. She’s wet down there and you don’t know if it’s yours or hers or a mixture but you use the moisture to bring in another finger and you massage her more firmly.

Your fingers and bulge inside her, your mouth on her collarbone, Lalonde leaning backwards with a hand on your hip, your collective rhythm slows, but it’s not the tiredness of someone spent but the strong, slow movements of two people extracting every pleasure from every moment.

She starts to lose control of the muscles around your bulge and she seems to be ejaculating; you didn’t know human women did that. You press harder against her to compensate until you feel yourself give and your own fluid joins hers. All strength fades from you and you fall back into the cushions together, spent, exhausted, flushed, and tingling.

“Fuck you, Vriska,” she says, smiling. It’s weird to see a genuine smile on her face.

“Hey, Lalonde,” you say, and kiss her.


	8. Rose: Relax

Rose: Relax.

 

The sun came out.

You’d love to believe it meant that the creature inside you was dead, but, much as that would be wonderful to believe, it’s probably still in there. Maybe it’s because you feel hopeful, genuinely hopeful, for the first time in months. Maybe it’s all down to the post-orgasm glow and once you come back down the rain will come back. You don’t think so, though.

You’re sitting with Vriska on the roof terrace, each wearing some old shirts and jogging pants, still sweaty, still happy. You’re playing with a packet of cigarettes, toying with the idea of lighting one; since you came back to Earth you’ve smoked occasionally, but you haven’t been able to bring yourself to do so indoors and smoking outside in the rain always seemed intolerably miserable.

“Not bad, Lalonde,” Vriska says. She’s leaning against you and you’re leaning against her. You enjoy her warmth and when you look over you see that arrogant smirk, the one you’re starting to find quite attractive.

“So what are we now,” you say. “Am I your kismesis?”

She shrugs. “Don’t know. I’m not an expert at the quadrants. I don’t think they’re really so important here? Besides, my first and so far only kismesis was Eridan, when we were much younger, and _that_ relationship involved pirate ships.”

You laugh. “I could get a pirate ship. Cap’n Lalonde, sailing the ocean blue, finding new and daring ways to be apprehended by the Coast Guard three minutes out of port.”

“Now you’re just mocking my childhood passions.”

“You don’t want to be a pirate any more?”

“Nah. Too many responsibilities.”

“You’ll have to find new ways to steal from people,” you say. “Socially acceptable ways. How do you feel about investment banking?”

“Sounds boring. Maybe I’ll just hang around here for a while.”

“Yeah. That’d be nice.” You smile, and lean your head against her shoulder. “Maybe we can go see our friends together? I still need a way to get this thing out of me, however quiescent it seems right now.”

“Sure. Let’s leave Kanaya ‘till last, though. I need a while to work out what I’m going to say to her.”

“You could try starting with the word ‘polyamory’?” you suggest. “I would have thought that came naturally to trolls, anyway.”

Vriska stirs uncomfortably. “Not within the same quadrant, no.”

“Yes,” you say, “but the quadrants aren’t really so important here.”

“True,” she says.

In the silence after, you light a cigarette and take the smoke as far into your lungs as you can. Next to you, Vriska coughs.

“That’s gross, Lalonde!” She snatches the cigarette from your fingers and throws it into the river below.

You both watch it until it reaches the falls and disappears into the spray.


End file.
